To Be Immortal
by Spherically Adept
Summary: For the god of mischief, who counted years like days, a human lifetime seemed a fleeting afterthought. It was such a shame that all humans, regardless of talent, were doomed to sleep away half of their already insectile lifespans. Pairing: Frostiron.


This fic is dedicated to the lovely author Like_a_Hurricane. If you haven't read her "Tricks of the Trade" series, go read it here: /series/19850

* * *

"The city that never sleeps" was at best, a misnomer, and at worst, a lie. It was perhaps more accurate-though less poetic- to dub New York "the city that is always half asleep." Mortals were brittle creatures, too easily broken without semi-regular rest. The population that stayed awake to roam the night must sleep during the day, and vice versa. For the god of mischief, who counted years like days, a human lifetime seemed a fleeting afterthought. It was such a shame that all humans, regardless of talent, were doomed to sleep away half of their already insectile lifespans.

From his vantage point on the edge of Stark Tower, however, Loki could easily understand why the Midgardians would be tempted to believe their city never rested. Even in the darkest hours of the night, the city lay swathed in a blanket of colored lights. It was as if the humans who designed the city had looked into the night sky and seen a challenge in the stars. Even in the second hour of the morning, traffic was loud and bright on the roads.

Sitting at the edge of the tower with nothing but lights beneath his feet and stars above his head, Loki felt, aptly, that he was suspended in an artificial cosmos. It was strange that he was not falling -he'd been falling every other time he was in such a situation-but the concrete ledge under his rear was solid and unyielding. The sliver of concrete was an anomaly, much like most of his experiences concerning the small insignificant mortal realm.

It was strange that the mortals would be the ones to permanently alter his near everlasting life. On Midgard, he'd met the most unlikely defeat he'd ever suffered. A powerful god and an advanced alien army subdued by a farthing of mortal freaks. (All things considered, his brothe-Thor. All things considered, _Thor_ had not played an integral role in either capturing him or subduing the army. Pointless sentimentality had been all _that one_had contributed.)

What was more, those same freaks had actually managed to capture him for his crimes. But instead of killing him, as had been their right, they'd fallen back on idealistic hypocrisy about how 'Avengers do not murder in cold blood.' Loki couldn't help but wonder what they would have done if he'd really pulled out all the stops. Despite their words, all the Avengers had histories drenched in blood; all had presented admirable examples of murdering in cold blood when they'd killed their dozens for the sake of 'vengeance' or 'orders'. Loki imagined that they would not have been so lenient with his sentence if the people closest to their hearts had been among the hundreds he had killed. The Black Widow alone would have single-handedly pulled his flesh from his bones if he had only permanently damaged the archer. He loathed to think about how different his present situation would be if he had hurt the Pepper Potts that Tony was still so fond of.

He had no right to denounce the Avengers for their hypocrisy, though, Loki supposed. After all the messy punishment business had been dealt with, he'd returned to join them hadn't he? Among the very mortals he'd tried and failed to kill, he now found acceptance, a safe place to rest his head, the beginnings of mutual trust, and...more. All the things Asgard never gave him and Jotunheim never had were here, in this tiny world that was always half asleep.

Loki took a sip of the hot coffee he nursed between his hands, cringing a bit at the bitterness. He'd never been fond of how the drink tasted; it was only the scent that made it even somewhat tolerable. He wasn't even sure why he still drank it. No matter how much cream and sugar was added, the inherent bitterness never went away. Besides, caffeine was too weak a stimulant to do anything for his jotunn physique. It did feel nice though, having the hot coffee to heat the porcelain between his hands and mask the smell of pollution with that of hazelnuts and cream.

Behind him, there was the sound of the penthouse door opening, followed by that of heavy footsteps. Just a few short years ago, the mere sound of footsteps behind him would have triggered his fight-or-flight reflex. His choice had almost always been the latter. For the sake of survival, it was wiser for the god of _lies_, who had more enemies than hairs on his head, to escape any fight that he did not engineer himself. Now, that was no longer the case. Loki knew that he shouldn't let a fleeting peace make him soft, but always being on edge made one tired. The prospect of having no foreseeable relief made him even more so. Despite the excuses he spun for himself, however, it was an undeniable fact that relying on a mortal for comfort was foolish.

It just felt...nice, he supposed, to have someone coming for him because he was _him _and not because of what he'd _done. _

"Can't sleep, babe?" Tony said, as he sat down easily next to Loki.

"You forget that sleep is not a necessity for me."

"Oh don't lie, you sleep just fine after we go two, three rounds."

Loki snorted, "How would you know? By the the third round, you're dead to the world the moment you hit a flat surface. Besides, don't assume I'm asleep just because my eyes are closed."

"Whatever you say." Tony held up both hands in surrender, "You gonna drink that?"

The trickster god looked down at his cooling mug of heavily sweetened coffee, "No, I guess not." he said, handing the mug off to Tony. He smirked when Tony took a sip and grimaced.

"I don't know why you always insist on ruining perfectly good coffee by saturating it with this sugar crap."

"It's too bitter, otherwise. If you don't like it, you don't have to drink it." Loki replied. He stared, unabashed, as the inventor downed the whole drink in one breath anyways.

Tony carefully set the empty mug down next to him. He wouldn't bat an eyelash if fell off the edge and broke, but at their height, it could do considerable damage if it hit a passerby on its way down. The lawyers on Stark Industries' payroll weren't overly fond of Tony at this point. "I don't like wasting coffee. Besides, I like it when it's bitter. Maybe it's an acquired taste."

"Probably."

The conversation lulled to a standstill after that and Loki returned to watching the lights. With no cup to hold onto, he set his hands on the ledge, slightly disappointed at how cold the concrete felt after that warmth of the mug. It was a petty complaint, however, so he didn't say anything.

Tony must have known about Loki's minor discomfort, though. Why else would he have wrapped their hands together without any prompting? The thought of having his own walking, arc reactor powered heater made the trickster smile.

"It's pretty isn't it?", Tony said the words as if the city was his personal electric garden to show off, which to some extent, it probably was. "I've known this skyline since I was a kid. It was a constant reminder of how much we've accomplished as a race, and how much more we can still do."

Loki listened with minimal cynicism, and as soon as his reply formed in his head, he knew that he was being unfair. It wasn't in his nature to spare others pain, though, so he said it anyways. "These 'accomplishments' you speak of come at a steep price. Your planet is at its limit keeping your current accomplishments lit, never mind your future ones." Loki didn't have to look to know that Tony was frowning.

"Yeah? Well that's all going to change. _I'm_going to be the one to change it. This tower powers itself, you know. With my help, the whole world will too. Someday."

"I wonder, though..." Loki let the bait dangle, knowing full well that Tony would bite.

"What? You doubt my capabilities?" By the suave lilt of his voice, Loki imagined that Tony was wearing that arrogant smirk that suited him so well. "I am offended. I'll have you remember that I was the one who blew up your floating fish armada. After being thrown out a window to boot."

The god of lies knew that it was probably best to let the banter stop there but the flames of mischief were irresistible, "Are you that weak, that a tiny fall like that would affect you for this long? You fell a few hundred feet, I fell through a rip in space time. I think I win."

"Hey, this isn't a competition. No need to get all defensive about it." A pause, "I have a glowing battery in my chest to keep pieces of metal from piercing my heart."

"I was on the wrong end of a Hulk smash."

The self-made Avenger sputtered a bit, and Loki laughed.

"This still isn't a competition."

"But I do still win."

"Yes, you do."

There was another companionable silence; one of the few that Loki had enjoyed in his long life. In his childhood with Thor, back when they'd both still revelled in the naivete that nothing would ever come between them, companionship had been a given, but silence had been hard to come by. As they grew older, and Thor spent more and more time on the training field, leaving Loki to build a wall around himself with tomes of magic and a clever tongue, silence had been a given, but companionship was lost. During that time, when they'd both honed their respective crafts, nobody besides Thor had ever thought to seek out the spiteful younger brother. In retrospect, Loki supposed that his claims about the falsity of Thor's love had been unfounded, but living your life in a shadow- even a loved one- had unpleasant side effects. Finding out he was of monstrous descent and then falling _out _of space had done little to clear his head.

Being escorted back to Asgard by Thor had felt like cognitive dissonance. On the one hand, Loki had been in chains, and was being sneered at by a population that he felt no affection for. On the other hand, the golden halls of his childhood had brought back memories-pleasant ones-that he'd forgotten in the crippling despair of his fall. Being _home_had quieted some of the anxieties planted by the chasm and all that came after it.

Yes, he potentially faced execution, but that was still better than being overwhelmed by the corrosive darkness wielded by evils stronger than he. Not having a family or even a world to belong to made it difficult to hold on to oneself in a battle against darkness. Using his insecurities as a foothold, it had whispered, shouted, tempted, threatened, him with images of revenge and blind destruction until he scarcely recognized the motives behind his own actions.

The memory of having his identity slowly eaten away was what ultimately drove Loki to join the Avengers. He had originally intended to use them as nothing more than an anchor. A team, a title, and a place to belong to were all invaluable assets when one's world began tearing at the seams. It had not slipped his mind that the Avengers could not physically last forever. But it had been Thor's hope (and secretly, Loki's also) that being part of team that tried to protect rather than destroy would swing his personality towards something less calamitous.

Once he'd actually swayed the Avengers over, Loki had found that they weren't half bad. Unlike Thor's Sif and Warrior Three, the Avengers didn't look down on his magic set as a second rate skill as opposed to brute strength. They saw and appreciated his worth as an ally; a new and addictive phenomena for Loki.

After the initial wariness had passed, Loki realized that he rather liked being in the company of his fellow Avengers. Humans were short-lived, but they had quirks and acumen that few in Asgard shared. The Captain had proven the strength of his character when he'd single handedly organized the evacuation of Manhattan during one of Doom's louder rampages. What had impressed Loki most that day was the way the man had transformed the incompetent police force into an effective unit without having to coerce or humiliate any of them into submission. The Captain led, but he did so without the aid of a crown or scepter.

Ever since her expert interrogation on the helicarrier, Natasha had-as the Midgardian phrase went- a special place in Loki's heart. Twice more, he'd had the pleasure of watching her lie. The first time had been to get the team out a delicate situation involving a mob of gun wielding morons that the Avengers (unfortunately) were not allowed to kill or maim because they were technically also civilians. The second time was when she'd distracted Amora by expertly whittling at her self esteem while the rest of them took down Skurge. Anybody crazy enough to look Amora in the eye and call her fat automatically landed in Loki's good favor.

Hawkeye was still somewhat wary of Loki's presence, and with good reason. Loki knew from personal experience the helplessness and despair of having something replace _you_in your head. Loki, however, was proud if nothing else, so apologizing had never been an option. It mattered little that the archer didn't trust him as a person since he'd proved that he would cover Loki's back as good as that of any other Avenger in a mission. As a sweet bonus, when Clint wasn't being paranoid, he baked excellent muffins.

In terms of Bruce, Loki sincerely just didn't want the man to Hulk out on him again. Any attempt to bond over science had been expressly forbidden by Fury after Loki's first lesson in biochemistry resulted in a miniature plague of sulfuric snails in S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

And that left Tony Stark, the mortal with an intellect too sharp for his own good, a mouth to match it, and an affinity for destructive behavior: everything a god of mischief and lies could appreciate. True to Thor's predictions, Tony had liked Loki when Loki wasn't throwing him out a window, and the two of them had hit it off faster than a lightning storm can start a forest fire.

The first thing that had set Tony apart from the others had been his curiosity about magic. While the others simply watched Loki in awe and caution, Tony had asked him questions, picked it apart (with his permission), and fearlessly experimented with the most volatile magic and technology until he got results even Loki hadn't anticipated. In return for Loki's magnanimous knowledge, Tony had offered up the best of Midgard's goods for Loki to pick and choose between.

Together, they made life in Avengers tower interesting- Clint was still a bit grey around the edges from the Asgardian grade ink they'd used to flush him out of the ceiling- for weeks, until they redirected their passions to the bedroom.

Since childhood, nearly all of Loki's careful plans had been unbalanced by a rogue variable that he could not have predicted. Tony Stark was the rogue variable in the current equation. Loki had had many trysts before-mythology had to come from somewhere- and he hadn't expected Tony to be any different, but he _was._Loki had picked up on the crucial deviation the day Iron Man had returned from a mission shot full of holes, and Loki's stomach had started doing gymnastics at the sight of too much blood leaking out of between the titanium plates. His plan of using the Avengers as mental rehabilitation was quickly falling apart, now that Tony's death had the potential to do more damage than could be healed.

"I don't doubt that you can do it." Loki said, quietly.

"Hm?" Tony looked up from the trance he'd fallen into. Their eyes met and Loki looked away.

"I don't doubt that you can give this planet a source of undepletable energy. But only if you devote yourself entirely to the task; between suiting up every other day, drowning yourself in liquor and giving the press a run for their money, I don't know how you'll have the time to do it."

Loki could feel the hand in his tense, as Tony stiffened at his words. For a moment, Loki contemplated apologizing and redirecting the conversation to safer ground, but this was an issue that they couldn't run from anymore, so he didn't. Then the moment passed and Tony, being the professional actor that he was, relaxed again.

"I'll manage somehow." Tony replied with a wink before letting go of Loki's hand to palm at the hem of his moss-green cashmere sweater. "By the way, this looks fantastic on you. Did you buy it yourself, or did Pepper get it for you? I need to give her a raise if she did."

"Stark." Tony flinched from the sudden iron of Loki's grip as the god grabbed his wrist, "Don't ignore my question. Tell me what this 'somehow' is. How do you plan to extend this pathetic life span of yours so that you can help your fellow mortals _achieve _more?"

"Whoa, Loki. I think you need to calm down."

"Tell me!" the trickster god could feel the air around them cooling, but keeping calm was the last thing on his mind. After all the, for lack of a better word, _shit _that had transpired in his life recently, Loki felt entitled to lay his fears on the table. Just once, he would like to have the luxury of knowing that what he was doing wasn't going to end with him falling into oblivion. "Tell me how you'll fix this flaw of yours so that I won't lose the only thing I've come across in the last millennia that I've actually wanted to _keep. _An arc reactor isn't going to cut it this time so _tell me how._"

The billionaire didn't answer. Even in the dim light, Loki could see the way his eyes widened even as his pupils contracted: a primal reaction of fear. It was the kind of look a cornered rabbit wore the second before it decided to run. For a split second, Loki was afraid that he'd pushed too far, that Tony would run away from this problem and never look back. But he need not have worried.

"Trust me to will find a way." Tony said, eyes returning to normal. There was no hesitation in his reply. If Loki had been lacking in conviction, then Tony had it all. "Just promise that after I succeed, you won't abandon me to live with myself. Forever is a fucking long time and textbook narcissism won't be enough to make it bearable."

In his perusal of literature of Midgardian literature, Loki had often come across documentation of hearts "fluttering with happiness." At the time, the phrase had baffled him. Hearts did not "flutter", unless they were beating erratically, in which case that was nothing to be happy about. Now, he was finally starting to understand the feeling those authors were trying portray. "You speak the truth." he whispered as a manic grin spread over his face. "You really speak the truth."

Tony rolled his eyes like a master. "Of course I do. Now stop being cheesy and kiss me like I know you want to."

The force with which Loki took up the offer would have sent both of them tumbling over the edge had they not both possessed preternatural reflexes.

"You know, I really do like this sweater." Tony mumbled into Loki's lips as he tugged at the collar of the soft cashmere garment, "You should wear it more often."

Loki smirked as the two of them struggled to get to their feet without either falling or break their lip lock. "How can I, if every time I wear it, you insist on taking it off of me?"

"Just shut up and walk."

Somehow, they made it back in doors without giving the city too much of a show, and Loki decided that coffee really wasn't that bad, when he was tasting it out of Tony's mouth, anyways.

The next morning, Tony woke to a cold bed. In the place where Loki had lain was a gold apple and a piece of parchment that read:

_As much as I'd like to see you traverse all nine realms, Midgard will not last that long without your alternative energy. Eat this before someone misses it. _

Tony chuckled as he turned the apple over in his hands, admiring the way it glinted in the light. Loki wasn't visibly in the room, but Tony was more than sure that the god was watching. "I will kick your skinny Jotunn ass all the way across the rainbow bridge if you're making me eat spray paint." he announced to the air before he bit into the apple.

As expected, the second Tony finished, core and all, Loki flickered into sight wearing nothing but the sweater and a smirk. "I love you too."

* * *

Yup, that was mushy. Thanks for reading and please review!


End file.
